The Sound of Silence
by dwennie
Summary: He threw his hands up in defeat. "Fine! Some... memories were triggered, I needed to clear my head, and I ended up here. That's all."


**Well, I had this idea while listening to Simon and Garfunkel. I would have liked it to turn out better, but I think I did okay. But hey, it's your opinion that matters. Care to tell me what you think by leaving a review? ;)**

**I hope I did alright with the characters, that was my main concern with this fic. Hope you enjoy!  
It's not beta'd, and I edited it at 1 am. Hopefully I caught all the mistakes, but I apologize for any.  
**

**Disclaimer: None of it's mine. I own only my laptop.  
**

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Patrick Jane was driving home after yet another successfully closed case at the CBI. Surprisingly, his so-called "antics" hadn't caused any lawsuits or threats against him or the Bureau, leaving Lisbon with considerably less paperwork. For the first time in weeks, he had left the bullpen after her. The case had been simple, he had known who the killer was from day 1, and the rest of the team clued in quickly by their standards, with only a little help from him.

All in all, he was feeling quite smug, and was well prepared for a celebratory meal at a high end restaurant. Whistling a merry tune under his breath, Jane absently turned on the radio. He didn't listen to music very often, but that in no way meant that he didn't appreciate a little background music while on a drive.

The announcer was partway through his introduction. Jane tuned the obnoxious man's voice out, waiting for the light to turn green and the song to start. It did, and when he recognized the tune he forgot about everything else. He sat, rooted to the spot as the first lines washed over him.

_Hello, darkness, my old friend_

_I've come to talk with you again_

Her favourite song.

He was still unmoving when the light turned green. An irate Volkswagen behind him honked, and he snapped out of his trance. His hands shaking, Jane pulled over to the side of the road, and stabbed the power button violently, effectively restoring silence to the vehicle. He squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head onto the steering wheel as memories floated unbidden to the front of his mind. Memories he'd tried not to forget, but to block. Memories that were a little too bittersweet. He fought against them, but eventually the struggle proved useless and he braced himself for the reminders that his life was once carefree.

_Sunday mornings when his wife and daughter rose before him, cooking pancakes together and listening to their favourite songs. _

_The sound of his wife humming along with an angel's voice and his daughter singing loudly and off-key._

_His wife's insistence that their child was raised listening to "real music", not the crap the radios played nowadays._

_Going to those small record stores as a family, testing out record upon record to find those worthy of purchase._

_The expensive stereo that his wife had owned, the one place that has truly been off-limits to their little girl._

Jane could feel the tears coming as the memories proved too much for him. Not caring about anything but getting _away_ from the source of his pain, he started the car and drove. He had no destination in mind, he just knew he couldn't stay still any longer and he couldn't go back home. Not yet.

His hands shook slightly, and he furiously blinked away the tears that threatened to blur his vision. The only thing he wanted to focus on right now was the road, but his troubled thoughts kept creeping back into focus.

It was nearly an hour later when he found himself right beside Lisbon's apartment, after driving aimlessly in circles for the better part of said hour. He wasn't sure what had brought him here, so he slowed to a stop and watched her door curiously. Her light was on, and he suddenly felt the urge to knock on her door. Not one to deprive himself of any such urges, he carefully masked his emotions behind his usual mask and stepped out of his car.

When he reached the front door, however, he paused. He spent all of 5 seconds trying to think of something to say, but in the end he gave up and decided just to wing it. Jane rang the doorbell.

Lisbon answered, brushing her bangs out of her face sleepily. Her attire suggested she was just about to head to bed. She was wearing cotton shorts that exposed a shocking amount of leg and a giant t-shirt that might as well have been swallowing her whole. Jane's mouth would have gone very dry if he wasn't so preoccupied.

"Jane?" she asked, fully alert once again. "Is something wrong?"

"Me?" he asked incredulously. "No, I was just checking to see if you were alright."

It was a downright lie, but Jane was hoping she'd buy it.

Her lips twitched sadly.

"Nice try. Why are you really here?" she asked, concern now blossoming in her eyes.

Damn. He'd rubbed off on her.

"Is it... them?" she bit her lip, clearly nervous about bringing up the subject, not that he blamed her.

"Trying to take my job?" he tried to joke, realizing a second too late that he had just inadvertently answered her question. Whoops.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Can I come in?" Jane asked, artfully dodging the question.

Jane knew that she wasn't fooled, but she stayed silent and stepped back, allowing him to pass. He went straight to her couch, lay down, and shut his eyes, much like he did at the CBI headquarters. After a few seconds, he cracked one of them open to find Lisbon standing in front of the couch, surveying him worriedly.

"What?"

She sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him. "Jane. Talk to me."

The consultant frowned slightly, but otherwise made no move to show that he had heard her.

Now it was her turn to frown. "It's late. You came here for a reason, so tell me why you're here. You'll feel better."

"That's rich, coming from you," he said, his words devoid of any emotion. They both knew he was referring to her habit of keeping her emotions bottled up.

Now she scowled, arms folded, with her signature glare on. "Jane, I'm just trying to help," she said in exasperation.

He was so not in the mood for an argument with Lisbon. He threw his hands up in defeat. "Fine! Some... memories were triggered, I needed to clear my head, and I ended up here. That's all."

Jane forced himself not to shift under her gaze. It reminded him of how he looks at suspects, and considering her new found talent for reading him, he was understandably uncomfortable.

Suddenly, she dropped her gaze and the air around them suddenly felt heavier. "You know, it's okay to miss them," she said softly, bringing her eyes back up to meet his.

The soft sincerity and the emotions swimming in her gaze was enough to bring his tears back, and against his will one slid down his cheek. Lisbon reached up and brushed it away, her thumb lingering for a split second on his cheek.

Her kindness touched him, and before he knew it he had finally let his mask slip off, and more tears started falling. "I know," he whispered, his voice trembling slightly.

He felt her hand rest on his shoulder, rubbing it soothingly as she crouched beside him. "Why don't you stay here for the night?" she offered.

He forced a smile through the tears. "Thanks, Lisbon," he said quietly.

She passed him a blanket, and smiled sadly. "Good night, Jane."

"Good night."

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**Fin.**

**Thanks for reading, Jenn.  
**


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